


A Pack Finds Home

by ChloeClegane



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Fix-It, Fluff and Humor, Gendry was on that fucking boat, Gendrya - Freeform, Marriage, Post-Canon Fix-It, Pregnancy, Winterfell, creepy bran is creepy, eventual snow ball fights, fight me, may attempt smut later, post sea voyage, will add more characters and tags as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-09-29 12:02:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20435693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeClegane/pseuds/ChloeClegane
Summary: After a year and a half at sea Arya and Gendry are ready to return to Westros. But first Arya needs to spend some time in her home of Winterfell before they begin their new life in the Stormlands.





	1. Coming Home

The guardsman ushers them into the solar “your grace. Your Sister and Lord Baratheon have arrived” The two travelers enter and the man excuses himself quietly. 

“Arya!” Sana’a quickly sets aside her papers and moves forward with arms open. I received the raven from white harbor when you docked but I thought it would be another day!”. The two sisters hold each other in a brief embrace. Gendry cant help but smile at the affection but their difference in height always amuses them. Arya breaks the silence. “Once we docked I handed the ship off to my first mate and we rode here immediately.”. “Well it’s good to have you home. I assumed you would still be in Essos”. Gendry immediately remembered what was about to happen and straightened his spine, resisting the urge to slink back and hide somewhere.  
Arya chuckles but keeps her composure “well we have some good news” she’s sounding nonchalant, her calm baffles him. “Gendry and I are getting married”  
Sansa’s eyes widen but her smile turns soft “I’m happy to hear it sister. I’ll arrange the details myself, I’m astonished my baby sister who detested the very idea of romance and marriage is now seeking it willingly. How soon are you hoping for? You’ll want to try and bring Jon here I assume, we’ll need to send a raven to the wall and that could take weeks to get a reply”  
“Well… Sansa... there is something you should know ” Sansa raised a regal eyebrow and Arya fidgeted nervously as she grabbed the edge of her cloak. Arya let out a breath and pulled aside her thick fur lined cloak and put a gentle hand on her swollen stomach. It was still small, could almost be passed off as too much ale in someone less physically fit. The bottom half of the doublet’s laces had been loosened and her shirt was left peeking through.  
“ARYA!” Sansa’s voice was accusatory, immediately triggering Arya’s defiant look and crossed arms. Gendry shifted from foot to foot awkwardly as the sisterly tension started to form. Sansa let out a sound of annoyance as she pinches her brow with her thumb and forefinger. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised”  
“OH! What could you possibly mean by that!?” Gendry steps back as Arya’s voice raises, looking on the verge of turning craven. “Sorry Sansa but sometimes you run out of moon tea when you’re AT SEA!”  
“You’re a princess of TWO kingdoms you couldn't have shown a little restraint, been a little careful!? Now every northern lord will be wondering why they weren't invited to the wedding of the Queen’s sister. ”  
“Since when have I been a Princess!? Or a Lady!? I’m not!” Her voice softens to disappointment. “I thought we were past this Sansa” Sansa’s shoulders softened as she looked away. “And why do I care, why shouldn’t we invite northern lords? I’m not ashamed. We’ll be wed before the babe arrives, it won’t be a bastard, although you know I could care less about that as well. If you’re really so humiliated then we’ll leave.” Arya turns to leave Gendry jumping forward to follow, knowing better than to say a word.  
“Arya wait, please. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so angry… it wasn’t fair to you.” Sansa looks genuinely apologetic. Arya turns but keeps a stony face. “You… you know I have to think of the politics, these things aren’t always a private matter. I’m a queen and I need to keep my people happy and confident in my rule. But you’re also my sister and I’ve lost you too many times to let you go again. Arya’s eyes began to water as she steps towards her sister. Her stoney fasade cracking. Sansa lifts her arms, “I’m sorry” Arya takes the last few steps forward and hugs her sister. 

They stay like that for a moment. Gendry is relaxed but still looking incredibly uncomfortable. “Lord Baratheon, why don’t you excuse yourself, we’ll find you for supper. And you can relax, I’m not going to lock you up or take your head. We’ll all be family soon.”  
An audible sigh of relief escaped his lungs, “thank you your Grace, I uh, I’ll leave then”. Arya looked over and gave a reassuring smile, he returned it before exiting. 

After a few moments more Sansa broke the silence, “let's sit down, over here” they settles into two comfortable chairs with a small side table between them. Arya recognized these chairs from her childhood, her father would use them for more intimate or informal conversations where the grandeur of the desk was unnecessary. She could even think of a few times she was scolded in these chairs, usually the right one. When her sister sat she smoothed her dress methodically, clearly taking the moment to gather her thoughts. Finally she shifts and takes Arya’s hand looking her straight in the eyes. “Are you happy? Because you don’t have to promise your life away to someone you don’t want. I won’t make you do that. I know you don’t want to be a high lords wife and be subjugated to running a household, I know that's not you. Say the word and we can figure out another plan”  
“You do know me after all. The answer is no, the wedding is not just because he got me with child. I love him Sansa and he loves me, like… like no one else ever has or even could” She rubs the bump on her abdomen “all this did was speed up the journey, we’re a pack and we have been for awhile, that won’t change, ever.”  
Sansa squeezed her other hand and smiles at her warmly. “Good. I’m happy for you baby sister, and I think our parents would be happy. Our father once told me “I will make you a match who’s worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. He probably didn’t think it would end up being you that married the high lord, although really you have the hands of a blacksmith”.  
Arya chuckles, remembering the old criticism of their septa “Thank you Sister. Lets send the raven to Jon and see if he’s at Castle Black, I would really like him to be here. We just need to do it before the babe arrives, It's important to Gendry, he doesn't want his child to be born a bastard like he was. We have 5 more moons to worry about that though.”  
“Wonderful, I’ll ask maester Wolken to get a raven off to the wall immediately. We'll get you settled, you must be exhausted from riding. We can plan the rest of the details later.”  
Arya agreed, “a bath would be great, but Sansa I need your help.”  
“With what? Anything at all.”  
“Clothes! I need clothes. I can barely lace my breeches, I’m lucky we got here when we did. Otherwise I would have been riding in the snow bare legged” Sansa laughed wholeheartedly, the way she can only do in the company of family. “You need help with your clothing too. Gods it's my lucky day. I’ll dress you like a proper lady. I’ll make mother so proud” Arya refuses any form of lady like frills and they spend a while making instructions for the tailor, teasing each other and enjoying the time together. 

The affectionate moment ended with a knock on the door. “COME”, Maester Wolken entered the solar “Oh Measter, what good timing I was just about to send for you”  
“Your Grace, a raven has arrived from your bother King Bran”. Sansa takes the small scroll and begins to open it and thanked the man. Arya raised an eyebrow suspiciously. Sansa read aloud “Please give our sweet sister my congratulations, as well as my apologies for missing wedding. Also, I look forward to her visit on the way to Storm's End.” Arya laughed “that is still soooooo creepy”


	2. Mates for Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry reflects on the events that lead them to this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm changing the rating because this chapter got more steamy.

Gendry had unpacked their belongings and was now resisting the urge to pace the room. He had tried to read the book he’s been practicing with but the dry history book of the Stormlands was impossible. His literacy has improved greatly in the last year thanks to Arya but his nerves made him too distracted to study. He’s running out of things to fidget with at the desk. 

Sansa had said she wouldn’t kill him but all he can think about is what they could possibly be saying locked away behind a closed door. And what about when Jon finds out? He’d bonded with her brother over the shared experiences of growing up a bastard. After the journey beyond the wall he considered him a friend. Gendry felt the guilt in the pit of his stomach and his thoughts wander back to that night. 

They had been traveling around old valyria seeing the sights, following along the coast. They had decided to avoid any exposure to stone men so they kept as close to the shore as possible while keeping safe. Arya had been captivated by the ruins. He could only imagine how tall the broken towers had once stood. She had talked to him about long dead dragon riders and legends of Valyrian experimentation, mixing animals and people together. That sounded like a real load of shite to him. 

She had run out of moon tea a few days prior. She didn’t pick up any more while there were in Elyria. The cities of Slaver’s Bay had been distasteful to them and the politics were still volatile despite the dragon queen’s conquering being long past. They stayed no longer than necessary.

He had spent the next week careful to spill himself on her belly or thighs. Until the night her legs were wrapped around his waist and as she clenched down around his cock crying his name while she reached her climax he had fallen over the edge after her. It wasn’t until he was curled up with her and his breathing had settled that he realized what he’d done. “Gods Arya I didn’t... I shouldn’t have.. Fuck” He had expected her to scream, punch, stab him maybe! But she just looked up at him and smiled, placed a hand on his sweaty cheek. “It’s ok Gendry, it was an accident. I was practically holding you down with my legs anyways.”. “I… I um” he wasn’t sure what to say. So she did what she does whenever he’s being stupid, she kisses him, long and sweet. And in almost a whisper she said “you’re my pack, my mate and I love you.” Then she kissed him and his head spun. How was she ok with this? “Arya I.. I love you too” How was she so calm? He rolled onto his back and she rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes. Her face relaxed and sweat still glossy on her brow. For what felt like ages he just laid there and stared at the ceiling confused. Feeling the rock of the ship and the sounds of its crew operating above. He felt every breath she took, the rise and fall of her chest against his and the tickle of her exhales. What had she meant by ‘my mate’? She’d referred to them as a pack before but this was new. Eventually he drifted off to sleep.

He was now laying on the bed in a similar fashion as that fateful night except this time he was splayed out like a starfish, examining the wooden beams and the stone ceiling.  
He nearly jumped when there was a knock on the door. “Uhhhh er… Come in.'' Two serving women carried in a large copper soaking tub, followed by a 3rd carrying a pot of steaming water. The 3rd one addressed him “beg pardon m'lord we’ve brought a bath for the princess on her grace’s request.”  
“Oh well thank you, go ahead” he had a strong urge to assist them. He still wasn’t used to this part of being a lord. He’d spent his life having to do anything and everything for himself, and usually things for other people. On the 3rd trip the woman made carrying the scalding water he finally got up. “Please let me help”   
“Oh no no m’lord” the woman chirped pleasantly. “You’ve been traveling for quite some time. You rest your bones. Besides we’re nearly done.” As if on cue the other woman had arrived and emptied her pot into the tub. “Ah! see m’lord all done. We’ll let the princess know, should be cooled off proper for her when she gets here.”   
Gendry nearly winced at hearing her called a princess, she was really the farthest things from it. Or at least from what he knew about princesses, which wasn’t much growing up in flea bottom.   
He walked over and felt the water, it was too hot to bathe in. He picks up some of the flowery smelling bottles opening the lids and smelling them one at a time. One was so potent it nearly sent him cross eyed. Soon he’s pulled back into his thoughts.

He had found her on the deck looking pensive. Guilt set in and he wondered if she regret what had happened the night before. He imagined her cursing his name, disgusted he may have put a bastard in her belly. He thought to avoid her and put himself to work with the crew. But she turned around. Even when He thinks he’s being quiet she always hears him coming. 

“Storm clouds, first mate thinks we may be in for a rough ride tonight.” He tried to search her eyes for any sign of anger, hate or sadness but they betrayed nothing. Her mask was up, the one she had mastered in Braavos. Was she seething beneath it? Her hand in his face pulled him out of distraction. “Stop staring. Did you hear what I said?” He blinked and nodded no. “They’re anticipating a storm tonight, you should probably go help them prepare the ship.” She gently took his hand and squeezed it before walking away. 

Arya came into the room. “You’re officially not being executed by my sister,” she teased. “Oi’ it’s not funny, she’s a bloody queen. She could’ve done it!” Arya chuckled and rolled her eyes. Turning her attention to removing her boots.   
“Oh GODS, Sansa already had the bath brought up? She really does love me I think”. He loves seeing her like this, excited and talkative. While she tells him about reading Jon’s recent ravens and how hopeful she is that he’ll be reachable. He realizes she’s got him grinning from ear to ear, watching and listening to her as she undressed. Gradually her chatting slows down and her attention turns to bathing. 

As the ship bounced and rocked fiercely. The cracks of thunder were the only thing that overpoured the pounding of the rain and the roaring of the wind. She had appeared in their cabin dripping wet. “Captain says everything should be fine! Storm’s not too awful, nothing we can’t handle”.   
“Great! Still hate it, but great.” She laughed, laughing was good, would she laugh if she was upset with him? Then she was kissing him. Definitely a good sign. He returned it hungrily, they didn’t come up for air for what felt like hours. He never got tired of kissing her, it left him warm and dizzy, like too much ale. “  
“Gendry, ask me again” she breaths the words. Their faces were still inches away and for a moment he doesn’t register or understand what she’s saying. He leaned in to have her lips again. But the hands on his cheeks prevent him. “Ask.” she looked him in the eyes as she said it” He was confused. ”ask you what? I don’t…” he suddenly had seen the vulnerability in her glassy eyes. His heart skipped a beat and he was befuddled. GODS, she had looked so wonderfully beautiful that night. “Oh Arya, Arya, Arya” her name came out in puffs of air. She attempted to recoil but this time his arms did the stopping. He kissed her one more time and willed his nerves into steel. “Gods, bloody fu’kn hell Arya, I love you. Gods I love you” He had to kiss her just once more. “You’re the only thing in this life that’s ever really mattered to me. You’re all I ever want. You’re beautiful and fierce and sometimes kind of mean but Arya...you’re my… I want you to be my family, so be my family. Wherever we go. Arya be my wife, please?”.   
After that he lost count of how many times she said “yes” and kissed him. That night they had made love, he’d spilled himself inside her two more times. The couple were too happy and too caught up to notice or to care. 

A few weeks later her moons blood never came and by the time they made it to Volantis she had taken to bouts of illness. 

“Gendry! GENDRY!” He’s on his feet in an instant. “What!?”. She sits upright in the tub, “I… it… I felt it move... “ Her eyes were big and she had a look a look on her face between confusion and awe. He knelt down at the edge of the tub, “what'd cha mean? Like kicking?”. “No, not that… but… Like something inside me somersault” There was a bit of a chuckle in the last word.Gendry was filled with a bashful excitement, “Arya, this is... We… you…” he realized he was starting to cry, “This babe is real and for the first time in my shite bastard life I have a real family”. She kissed him and wiped away his tears “of course it is you stupid, we’re a pack, you’ll be my mate for life.” She said it so matter of factly, her face cheeky. “Now, take off you clothes and get in this bath with me.” She didn’t have to tell him twice “as m’lady commands”. Quickly his body is on hers kissing her 

She howled as he rubbed the climax from her small bundle of nerves. He thinks that she wants all of winterfell to hear her. The water sloshes to the floor, she clutches the edge of the tub while he continues to pump inside of her from behind. The hand that was on her sex moving to hold her hips in place, the other queezing her swollen breast. As her orgasm completes her arms go slack and she sinks into the water, but he holds her in place and continues to pound himself into her tight little cunt. Then he grunts out his own completion and shifts onto his back in the tub pulling her and holding her to his chest. 

He relaxed there in the tub, groping her and nibbling at her neck while they catch their breath. Eventually bringing his hands to stroke her swollen stomach. It gave him a thrill to think he’d done it. He’d ‘mated’ with her, given her his seed and now her body was growing with his child. It felt like a miracle. “Mates for life” he whispers to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the back and forth from memory to current events worked. I would love feed back. All around I'm feeling pretty proud of this chapter and hopefully I can keep improving.   
Next chapter will be more from Arya's POV, she feels harder to write for me so I'm nervous.


	3. The Comfort of the Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya reflects on some of her anxieties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote/arranged this chapter a lot, then divided it in two. Partially because it's late, I want to put something out and need to go to bed for work tomorrow. So this is shorter than I planned but I'm hoping to get the next chapter out quick.

Arya had just finished her morning water dancing forms. Since getting pregnant she still woke up and went through daily training. Although Gendry had convinced her that anything including live steel was off the table and the maester also advised against tumbling. From the beginning, the day she decided on motherhood she swore that it wouldn't end her life as a warrior. Especially if she brings children into the world, she’ll have to keep her pack safe. She won’t allow herself to leave them too soon, not like her own parents. One on a butchers block and the other under the betrayed over a broken promise. It wasn’t their faults, mistakes were made but she felt the void all the same. She had felt years of fear and sorrow. Gendry and Hot Pie had become family too but eventually there were separated as well. She thought of the works “the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. Leaving for King’s Landing, Robb leaving Bran and Rickon. A part of her heart wonders how different things could have been, but she knows it's futile. It’s better not to dwell on the what-ifs, she accepts her life now, right where she is. 

As Arya made her way up the steps she walked over to one of the castle walls. The sky was clear after yesterday's snowfall. The fresh powder sparkled in the sun. She felt at home, it’s a foreign feeling but also so very welcome. Before the long night and the destruction of King’s Landing she’d been steel, she had learned to close her heart in the House of Black and White. So, while her reunion with her family brought her joy she was convinced she would never find peace until she had completed her vengeance. The night Gendry had called her beautiful and perfect, and asked her to be his wife, was one of the few moments that warmed her chest. (That and seeing Jon again.) The girl in her had surfaced, smiled and nearly cried, but the part of her that required revenge had won. She had hardened her heart and walked away from him.   
Sandor had confessed his mistakes to her as they rode south and it was only as the world fell down around her that his words sunk in. “if you come with me, you die here. You told me that whingy blacksmith loves you. Cersei is going to die today, whether it’s the falling castle or the fucking dragon eats her whole. Go live your fucking life, don’t be like me girl.” On the road he had told her seeing Sansa and Arya again had made him feel the weight of his mistakes. He said “from the moment my face was pressed to those coals I never really lived. I was sad and angry and in all my life I have nothing to show for it. Only thing I ever did that mattered was keeping you and your sister alive… I didn’t do enough for your sister.... Probably could have if I had taken my head out from my ass and put down the wine”. Sandor confided in Arya that he’d once loved her sister, “some broken fucking part of me”. She had been surprised, now she wonders if she should tell Sansa, she wonders if Sandor would want her to know. So as the ground began to shake he had begger to to turn back and to live, she had thanked him and left the red keep. On her way out through the crowd the farther she got away from the castle the more she wanted to live, and the more she wanted to live the worse the fires got. 

She had to stop, she took off her gloves and pressed her hands into the snow that had collected on the stone edge of the parapet. She had to stop the thought from progressing. When fear quickened her heart beat and she could feel her face get warm she had discovered that the cold helped her calm down. So for a moment she stood there and breathed, she closed her eyes and focused on the way the breeze felt. That day was something she never spoke of, couldn’t. Gendry knew some of what had happened but only what she’s told him through gasps and tears when she wakes from her nightmares. 

Arya felt the fluttering sensation inside her and opened her eyes. She knew she needed to distract herself so she held onto the feeling of home. She looked down at the yard, remembering the archery range and all her days playing with her brothers, their annoyed scowls when she would out shoot them. This is where they would fighting with sticks, until her septa caught her. She turned to look back out over the open expanse of snowy fields. She remembered what it was like rolling in the summer snow and throwing snowballs. She was quick and so she excelled at dodging her brother’s projectiles. Once she had jumped behind Robb, Theon’s ball nailed him instead. As Theon laughed she had used the moment to pelt him twice in quick succession. Robb had carried her home on his shoulders that day, proclaiming her the rightful champion. Unfortunately, her mother was not amused by her mussed wet hair and soaking wet skirts. Of course she had gloated to her father at dinner and he had smiled, in the special way he reserved only for her. She wonders now if that was because of her aunt Lyanna. When she was a child she was called horse face, since coming home, her hair had grown longer, some of the lords in her sisters court had proclaimed her Lyanna reborn, a winter beauty. 

She felt the dramatic irony, Lyanna Stark and Robert Baratheon were never meant to be, and now as if born again Arya and Gendry fill the roles. She thought about her aunt then, dying in childbed. Her father had only been there after Jon was born. She must have given birth alone and afraid in Dorne. Arya’s seen the pains of childbirth and heard the stories. Plenty of women don’t survive it. It’s a fear that’s eaten at her since having her pregnancy confirmed. It was that day they decided it was time to return to Winterfell, where they can be married in the godswood with her family. Then they would go to Storm’s End and raise the babe in the safety of a castle, still traveling when they can. But they’ll try to do right by the people of the Stormlands and give Davos the much needed break he deserves, let him be a grandfather to their child. 

But now she thinks how different Storm’s End will be. She wasn’t a stranger to heat or bad weather, but she had never been to the stormlands before. She pictured Lyanna Stark with a face just like hers, tears in her eyes, screaming and bleeding. She pictures herself. Who held her hand? Who will hold my hard? Arya wonders to herself, maybe Gendry will but it’s not customary in Westeros. Would her father have held Lyanna’s hand if he had arrived in time? Arya thinks he would have. Then she thinks of her Mother, it’s not the first time in the last 4 moons she’d wished for her mother’s guidance. She too had been alone in a new place when she gave birth to Robb, she guesses that her mother must have also been lonely and afraid. What would her mother say to her now? When Arya tries to picture her mother the details have all grown fuzzy, in her mind her mother's face is blurred with Sansa’s. What about Sansa? She can’t possibly come with her to Storm’s End. 

Arya took another deep breath of the crisp winter air, felt the way the cold made her lungs feel. She had started stroking her stomach, as if calming the small babe inside her will calm her as well. She needed to talk to Gendry. 

Sansa’s voice pulls her out of her thoughts “Good morning Sister, done with your water dancing?” Arya whipped around and spoke immediately “Will you hold my hand?”. Sansa looked at her confused “what… like right now?” Arya continued to rub her stomach, she felt so stupid. “No Sansa… when it’s time.” “Yes” her sister hadn’t hesitated at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've practiced Dialectical Behavioral Therapy you may have gotten my little reference to TIPP skills. Also I had parts work therapy in mind writing this. I feel like after everything Arya’s been through it kind of made sense for her. The Idea that you’re personality and the reason you do things is because of the separate parts you’ve developed over time. Parts that have developed as often maladaptive coping mechanisms. For Arya she has the part that’s still the scared girl who watched her father die, that part is watched over by the angry violent part who kept her alive on the road. She has a part that wouldn’t give up on vengeance, because it had convinced any other part of her that they couldn’t survive without it. I also love the way this theory of Psychology can be applied to Sandor. He is ruled by the angry part because it keeps the part of him that will always be the scared burned little boy safe. And how he was fighting the part of himself that wanted to love a teenage girl, the angry part wanted to rape her to prove to himself just how shitty and worthless he is but the damaged part that wanted to be loved had cried and then fled. ANYWHO just interesting stuff to me. Also yeah had a SanSan nod in this chapter.


	4. Leading a Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya has a talk with her sister and a talk with her mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off I am SOOOO sorry for the long wait. I've had a lot going on personally with work and I got sick and my anxiety is a mess. I really wanted to get this chapter right so I reworked parts a few times. I've also been trying to plot the structure of the story I'm telling. I hope this doesn't disappoint.

“That looks a lot more comfortable” Sansa stepped up behind her in the tall looking glass and adjusted the back of Arya’s skirts. “Just like you asked for, not too long, laced on sleeves for movement.” Arya examines herself in the mirror, her sister was right, this was a significant improvement from her old clothing that now just made her feel like an overstuffed sausage. The dress reminded her of the necklines her mother would wear. In the traditional northern style the grey shift was cut high and gathered close to the neck, like all her others. There was a plain rust colored wool underdress and the outer dress fabric was rich indigo. The neckline was straight from the shoulder, the front fastened with a direwolf brooch under her bust. The underdress was gathered with extra fullness at the front and the outer’s open front style will allow her still small bump to grow. Unlike the dresses of her mother, the sleeves did not billow and hang from the wrist. Instead they were fitted against her arm. She supposed her mother would also never wear something so short. Arya enjoyed that the outfit was complete with thick wool hose and plain bloomers underneath. It was a dress but she could also easily move, function and even fight in it.  
“Thank you Sansa, I actually like this” She smirked at her sister “a lot more that I thought I would. I can move without worrying I’ll burst a seam.”  
Sansa had a smug smile on her face and feigned a sigh “sweet sister, how could you doubt me?” Sansa then flashed her a kind smile before turning back to the basket on the bed and laid out another dress. “I thought 3 would be good for now. I hope you like the house colors. One Stark” She smoothed out the one and reached back into the basket and to pull out a third. “The other Baratheon”. Arya touched the fabric of the grey dress, embroidered around the neck were two direwolves entangled. “I did that part myself, I wanted to put something special on it with my own hands.” Sansa’s stitches were perfect as always. Each dress was slightly different and all beautiful. “I have one more thing, and don't throw a fit about it”.  
Arya’s eyebrow raised and she crossed her arms. “That was a stupid way to start this conversation” Sansa rolled her eyes as she walked to the vanity and opened a wooden box. What she held in her hands was a circlet much simpler than the direwolf crown she wore on her own head. Instead of being two wolves it was two swords, with the hilts meeting in the front. All together it was elegant and understated, more a circlet than a crown.  
As pretty as it was Arya looked her sister dead in the eyes “I’m not wearing that thing”  
“Arya you’re a princess of the north”  
“NO I’m not”  
“YES you are, you deny it but we’re a family, I am a Queen and that makes you a princess. You don’t act like one but that doesn’t change the reality.”  
“You won’t get it on my head, even pregnant you won't be able to catch me if I make a run for it.” she said flatly.  
“Arya! I’m being serious. You don’t have to wear it all the time, all I ask is formal occasions. The northern lords will start to gather for your wedding and so at the feasts, the official court and the petitions of the lords and small folk is all I’m asking.”  
“And that seems like a lot your grace” Arya scowled at her sister petulantly, putting emphasis on the title “Stop trying to change me into something I’m not!” She could feel her temper starting to rise.  
“Arya step back and think about more than just yourself” That comment had Arya’s fists clenched tight she prepared a cutting retort but her sister stopped her. “Listen to me” Sansa took a breath and tried to start again more calmly. “For the first time in history the North is ruled by a woman, they respect me because I took back our home and helped lead them through the long night. Love and loyalty have begotten me love and loyalty in return. The Northerners respect you because you saved all of us, all of Westeros. This is some of the first chances outside of dorn that women get to shape our world, from the ashes of war we’ve taken whats ours and now we get to command a world that was never meant for us to command.” Sasa clutched the circlet and searched her sisters eyes for understanding.  
“I’m still not you! I’m not elegant and I don’t know how to curtsey and hold a court.”  
“I’m not asking you to wear court dresses and curtsy and be the kind of princess that's expected. I’m asking you to shape and redefine the role of women in the north. Support the ideals of the wildling and the Mormont women. Be a strong, deadly and beautiful leader who has the respect and love of her people.” Arya unclenched her fist and felt her face shift into surprise, listening instead of reloading verbal retaliation. “The world as we knew it is covered in ash from years of war and we are rising and rebuilding it.” Arya took in her sisters monologue and let the words sink in. she opened her mouth forming a protest but Sansa cut her off. “You and Gendry lived and worked among small folk. You’ve told me yourself that you saw the way war and petty lords destroy the life of the common people.”  
Arya finally interrupted her, “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I know how to lead a kingdom like a Lord would!”  
“Oh you don’t?” Sansa asked the question with mocking false confusion. “You learned on the knee of our Father, you learned watching Tywin Lannister in Harrenhal, you were here with Jon and I, you helped captained a ship for the last year. You’ve seen good and bad leadership in your life and I think you’re smart enough to know the difference. You have Stark and Tully blood, when you speak, people listen. I don’t think you can see it in yourself but you have confidence in your voice and your posture. You’re small but you command a room all the same. You’re…“ Sansa had clearly struggled to come up with a word better that scary or creepy. “Aloof. But you also have a good heart that shows through when you let it. You know how to do right by the people who follow you, like Father or Robb, and you have the experience to know how to keep your head.”  
“But that doesn’t mean I want that burden. Sansa, again, I’m not you” Arya protested but she sounded much less convincing then she did before. “I’ve never been an important person, I hid and ran away, in Braavos I was ‘no one’. I killed the Night King and then went to hide and shoot arrows. I… didn’t even… I wasn’t planning to come home at all...”  
“Jon didn’t want it either, to be a king. And you know what it was like for him growing up. He took what was thrust in his hands, you have a choice, an opportunity to make things better He’s still using what he’s been giving to help establish and rebuild with the wildlings. You have the opportunity to use power, use it to make the world better, and to prevent the wrong people from ruining it. Gendry is good and kind but he doesn’t know how to deal with the nobility, you do. You may not think it but you’ll be a wonderful lady of Storm’s End, the kind of Lady that YOU want to be.” Sansa smiled at Arya, genuinely. “Besides, I know you’ll never let anything truly trap you. You already have Davos running the Stormlands, leaving you both free to travel now. If you keep a loyal and trustworthy council you’ll have help carrying the burden.”  
“Sansa... this is… “ she turned around and paced “GODS why do you always have to be so smart!” Arya felt befuddled and a bit distressed. She found herself stroking little circles on her stomach, a new nervous habit. “FINE I’ll wear the damn thing, but only formally.“ Her sister beamed and placed the circlet on her head. The delicate metal felt heavier than it ought to. Sansa grabbed her other hand and held it. “It looks good on you. Just think about what I’m saying, and think of the world you want for your child.” That comment made her feel even more conflicted.  
“You’re being annoying” Arya said it in a mimicking tone. “And a know-it-all” She looked at Sansa and smiled. “I’ll think on it”  
Sansa squeezed her hand once more before releasing it. She sat on her desk, clearly pleased with herself . “Now go talk to him. He’s stubborn but he’s also devoted to you”

\---------------

Arya made her way to her and Gendry’s chambers. Her head was spinning with the revelations Sansa had laid at her feet. She thought about the Rhoynar Queen Nymeria, who lead her people to Dorne. She had been a tactician and a diplomat, she was also the mother to house Martell. She was a woman and a leader. The songs refer to her as a warrior queen although the Maesters history books tell the truth that she never bore arms but commanded armies to victory with military prowess. The legendary queen had been Arya’s childhood hero, it was why she gave her direwolf the name. She had wanted to grow up and be the version in the songs that could cut men down in glorious fashion. It’s an aspiration that she accomplished, Arya can cut, stab and brutalize men in a variety of ways. She was much less certain of the rest. Can she be both the truth and the songs? She supposed Tywin Lannister was. But Tywin wasn’t a mother, in fact he was a terrible father. Women are expected to be mothers, carry the burden of children, in their wombs, at their breasts and then rearing into adulthood. As she approaches the door she shifts her thoughts to her impending discussion. With her hand on the door she takes a deep calming breath.

She found her betrothed beside the fire, eyes closed, relaxing in a chair with his feet resting on a stool. “Hey, wake up, lazy”. He opened his eyes and frowned at her.  
“Well excuse me m’lady, or should I call you princess?” He was being a shite. “I just spent the last few days making that fancy new belt for your sister, I think I deserve a relaxing break” She walked forward and pushed his feel off the stool, he looked at her cross and she offered her hand.  
“Let’s go for a walk.”  
He scoffed “in all of this? It got deeper last night, I’m happy in here where it’s warm. Also you didn’t ask very nicely, princess” she almost kicked him but he anticipated her attack. Gendry laughed at her and pulled her into his arms. She allowed it.  
“Fine! Please come for a walk with me. I want to talk to you.”  
He kisses her, long and sweet ”as m’lady commands”. 

After some whinging, Gendry dresses in a fur cloak, boots and warm gloves. Sansa had gifted him a new cloak when they arrived, he looked like a proper lord of the north.  
The couple made their way out through the gates. Once they’d cleared a reasonable distance she spoke. 

“Gendry” she stopped walking at the top of a small hill and turned to him.  
“Arya?” he said with an overly straight face, she didn’t laugh.  
“I want something... Er I want to ask you something” she bit her lip and tried not to look as nervous as she felt. Her only fear in all of this is giving up her freemon, this child would be his as much as hers. If he disagrees she can’t just do what she wants anyways. She’s also not a lone wolf anymore, she can’t run away at the first sign of heartache or claustrophobia.  
“Arya?” his voice was concerned, he’s come to know her insecurity, or maybe she’s grown worse at hiding it from him. She doesn’t think she can hide much from him at all anymore. “Arya, it’s ok what is it” She's frustrated with her inability to find the right words and that frustration comes through in her tone.  
“I… I know you don’t like it here” she turns away from him and runs her hands through her hair.  
“What? Are you mad at me or something? For that?”  
she hadn’t meant to stoke his temper, she whips back around “NO stupid!” She breathes. “I just… I know we agreed on coming here first. So we could get married and then we’ll go to Storm’s End. But I don’t.. I don’t”.  
“Are you really doing this? What you don’t want to get married anymore? What about…”  
Arya looked at him confused pulling a face  
“what?! NO of course I still want to get married.. I…”  
“you don’t want to go to Storm's End? I told you that doesn’t matter to me. Davos can have it for keeps for all I care” the temper turned back into insecurity. He’s insecure, almost panicked  
“No I told you I am ok with that. In fact, I talked to Sansa today and she made a lot of sense… agh but that's not what I’m talking about!” She resisted the urge to stomp her foot like a child.  
Gendry reached forward and grabbed either side of her face. “Then love what is it? What do you want?”  
“I want to say here until the babe comes”  
“Ok” He said it without hesitations.  
“Really? It could be a whole year.”  
He winced “a whole year?” His hands relaxed away from her face but stayed loosely at her shoulders.  
“Yes... probably... the babe comes in less than 6 moons.Then we probably shouldn't travel until we know it’ll be strong enough to.”  
“Well then maybe we shouldn't risk traveling with a babe at all. We could stick to the original plan, leave after the wedding at get you south while it’s safe for you to travel.  
“I don’t want to stick to the original plan”  
“But it seems... better”  
“For you!” He looked down guilty when she said that.  
Arya felt the emotional damn break. “I’m the one thats scared, I’m scared and I don’t want to give birth alone in a place I’ve never been before”  
Gendry blinked at her surprised, cupping her face in her hand, he spoke softly, “Arya… you’re not afraid of anything”  
“Well turns out I am” She gave him a sad smile.  
He sighed “Then we stay. But for the record, I would never let you be alone. I’d punch any Maester in the teeth that tried to turn me away. You know I don’t give a damn what's proper.” Arya felt her shoulders release. She wondered, not for the first time, how his words are able to affect her so greatly.  
“Thank you Gendry.” she kissed the palm of his hand. “I want to be here with my sister. Nearly every midwife I’ve spoken to from here to Essos has asked me if I’ll have my mother when the time comes. I don’t have one anymore, but I do have a sister and the home I grew up in.”  
“Then yes.” He leaned forward, resting his head on hers, his hand on her stomach. “I know I’m a blubbery fool but, Arya, this a gift you’re giving me. I’m not going to be a cunt and throw a fit about the details. I love you”  
She shifted on her toes and kissed him long and tender. Wrapped in his arms they kissed for a while. When Arya pulled away she caressed his cheek and smiled . “I love you too” 

They continued their walk. Arya felt a mischievous smile creep onto her face when she suddenly had an Idea. “do you want to do something fun?”  
Gendry gave her a suggestive smile. “What do you have in mind?”  
Arya chuckled and walked ahead of him. She scooped up some fresh snow and lightly packed a ball. Then, she chucked it, nailing his face.  
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR!?” He yelled. Arya bursted into laughter.  
“It’s a snowball, let's have a snowball fight.”  
“A what?”  
“It’s a game stupid”  
“Are you telling me you northern kids are so bloody bored that you pelt misery at each other for fun!?”  
For that comment she threw another snowball and hit him square in the chest.  
“Stop that!” he demanded.  
“No, I’m kicking your but at this.”  
“You aren’t kicking me butt, I’m not playing the dumb game.”  
Another one of her balls hits his chest. “Oh come on? You don’t want to lose?” She’s antagonizing him and it works. He dodges her next ball and rushed to reach down and hurl a loose pack of snow at her, it fell apart before it hit her. He scowled. His second ball was better but still missed her. “You have to roll and pack it stupid”. She demonstrates one slowly. He lets out an annoyed grunt. She smiles and begins to move before he can throw a third ball. He misses. As she turns to carefully avoid a groove in the ground he manages to land a hit. She laughs and so does he. After that it turned into a full battle. They duck and weave and thow.  
Finally it ends when Arya charges him and he tumbles into a pile of soft snow. With a smile she falls to her knees and kisses him.  
“See, it’s fun to hit people in the face with snow”  
“Aye, I s’pose so” He shifts his face into concern. “I probably shouldn't uv thrown things at the mother of my child”  
Chuckling “It’s alright this time. Now let's get you back by a fire.” 

When they walked back in through the gates and across the yard they both heard Sansa from the railing. “Arya! Gendry! Good news!”  
They make their way over, meeting Sanda at the base of the steps.  
“We got a Raven from hardhome! Jon wrote back!” Joy shined in her eyes through the demure composure.  
“What did he say!?”  
“Read it yourself.”  
Arya grabs the small scroll and begins to read allowed “Sansa, I’m so happy to hear about Arya. Gendry is a good man. I’m shocked that anyone managed to woo our dear sister but I’m glad it’s someone I’ll be happy to call good brother. I’ll be on the first boat out of Hardhome, expect me in 3 weeks.” Arya smiles as she felt warmth rush into her chest.  
Gendry came behind her, one of his hands rested on the top of her belly. “Your Grace, Sansa, you didn’t tell him did you?… about this” he patted her belly with a guilty look on his face. Arya;s eyes widened and she looked at her sister. “Yeah, Sansa, what did you tell him?”  
Sansa gave a diplomatic smile. “I felt it was a conversation best had in person”  
Arya couldn’t decide if that was better or worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I would love constructive criticism. I'm still so new to writing and I know I could use some improvements. I'm hoping I'll have the next chapter quicker.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. This is one of my first fics that I've ever posted. I'm terrified! I would genuinely love constructive feed back or just to discuss Gendrya in the comments. 
> 
> I'm not sure how many chapters this will end up being at this point but I would like to bring the story up to them arriving at storm's end.


End file.
